Long Distance Run
by ilexx
Summary: BD and HPTrance. Chap 1 is Beka. Chap 2 is Dylan. Chap 3 is up, set in the AU of WoaIL. Chap 4, still WOAIL, Trance's POV. Chap 5 are Trance and Harper, set after TAGD on Seefra. Chap 6 still Harper and Trance, after HOTJ2, and finally chap 7 with BD.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Mary Rose got married. She asked for some ficsinvolving... well, the things Mary Rose likes - and to go it all the way. Her lovely husband, however, likes something else, namely Harper/P-Trance, better. But as long as the two of them are happy together... Anyway, it will for those reasons have to be not exactly a WIP, but still longer than just a one-shot.

Disclaimer: I don't own Andromeda

Beginning right after The Things We Cannot Change.

**Long Distance Run**

**I. For Starters...**

**1. Attempting Patience**

What's he doing? Didn't he listen? On Shintaida, didn't he understand what I was trying to tell him? Do I really have to spell it out for him? Maybe I have to.

Hell! It's been close, so close! We came within an inch of losing him. I look at him lying here, struggling for words to thank me... ME! I try to interrupt him, tell him that I was anyway going to try and retrieve the _Maru_. He looks at me with this earnest and slightly challenging look in his eyes, the one that says 'Cut the crap!', whenever his inbred politeness prevents him from speaking his mind out loud. It's Tyr he should be thanking. What Tyr did for him, how he did it... I'm indebted to Tyr for the rest of my life for it.

He says, he already thanked Tyr and that now's my turn. That we did it together and that we both risked what we value most to help him, that he knows and is grateful for it... He's only partly right. Indeed, Tyr went against all instinct, put his life on the line for Dylan in the most un-selfish, uncharacteristic way for a Nietzschean. But me...

Does he really not know – or not believe what he is, what he's become to me? I search his face, unbelieving. He can't be that obtuse, that clueless, that naiv. And then I know I'm right: he isn't. But he's weary, scared and still too bruised to deal with it right now.

Very well. I won't tell him. Not all, anyway. And I won't expect him to tell me anything, either. But I have to make him understand once and for good that I know where we're standing, how far we've come together. He shied away on Shintaida – and then was saved by the bell. But there's no bell to save him now. I won't bother him too much, I will give him all the time he needs, but he has to know that as far as I'm concerned it's all about him now, has been so for a while.

I remember well the quiet, dispassionate contempt for Dylan Charlemagne was hiding under his suave, persuasive manners, his fake deferent praise of him barely able to conceal what he was really thinking: that he had come to us forced by circumstances, to strike a deal with this guy set on changing the universe with nothing but an empty, albeit powerful ship and a crew built up barely two years ago from a mud-foot from Earth, some foolish girlie of unknown origins, a proselyte monster, a Nietzschean from an extinct and thus inferior pride and a female pirate. That he would strike the deal and bid his time for the first opportunity to prove that a pact with Nietzscheans is not worth the paper it's being written on and stab Dylan in the back.

The fool! Archduke Bolivar, mighty Sabra-Jaguar ruler, tamer of the shrew (or so I hope for his sake), yet still blinded by the usual Nietzschean arrogance, unable to see what was right in front of his nose: that beneath Dylan's starry-eyed, child-like beliefs in ideals, there is a vein of steel, a deadly determination to see his will come true.

He's given up too much for it to be any different. He sacrificed his personal happiness to go on fighting for ideals that to restore and protect he perceived as his duty. Those ideals that only months ago used to always shine in his eyes. And when they did, when they do... Harper's right: when his ideals still glow in his eyes every now and then, I could drown in them.

But ever since the worldship Dylan has started selling parts of his dreams, putting his ship and his life on the line and sacrificing to reality most of those ideals he had pursued without concession, lifeline or net. He stared into the fangs of the Abyss and refused to run from the challenge, picked up yet another fight and accepted to put his high-flying dreams on stall and take care instead of the dirty business of keeping this universe alive.

And ever since he spends his time struggling on and on, with one system after another, never missing any ever so remote chance of bringing in yet another ally, going through talks, battles, duels, treaties showing no fatigue, no discouragement, no doubts. Beware, ladies and gentlemen – and Mr. Bolivar! One day it could blow over, and then it might take you all down.

He goes to the farthest, most insignificant races, explains the facts to the most obtuse and the most enlightened, bullies them, threatens, charms... He walks through palaces and sits down in huts, urges us all to make profit that he then spends on others. He cheats, he lies and he protects them with his own life if necessary. There is not one thing he wouldn't do to forge his alliance against the Magog, to keep those fools alive. Whatever it takes to lead them to victory: Dylan's got it all.

And me... I love him for this uncompromising respect for life, for his compassion for all things sentient... and for the dare-devilish, cocky, insane way to go about it as well as for the witty, graceful ease with which he moves in for a kill whenever he's convinced himself that something is threatening to extinct life. I must have loved him for a long time already, but during the past few hours, while I sat out there waiting for Trance to stabilize him, clutching his uniform jacket to my chest, burying my face in it to hide from the fear, I finally admitted it to myself that I do and that I will follow him in all of his struggles.

I won't burden him with the knowledge that every time I think of him when he's not around, I have this strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I have to tell him that – although I know that one day there might be a fight, a battle... or a woman he won't come back from – I'm with him to the end.

I watch him. He's scared, oh! so scared of the things I might tell him! He tries to be brave, looking at me wide-eyed, and when he finally smiles and thanks me once more, awkwardly and clumsy, yet trying to appear casual and at ease... He sounds just like a country-boy from some back-water planet hitting the big drift and all fancy places for the first time in his life, trying to get his head around it all and act... cool and unimpressed. The imposing, awe-inspiring last one of the High Guard - desperately wishing that it would be in concordance with his dignity to disappear under the blanket and stay there until I'm gone. So... cute...

Relax, boy, I won't bite – not unless you ask for me to do it! I take mercy, smile and turn around, leaving him to his musings.

_**  
**_


	2. Chapter 2

Dylan's thoughts on the matter...

**2. Attempting Eloquence**

What the heck am I supposed to say? What do you want to hear? Why are you asking? **What **are you asking? Why do I have to sit here, listening to you telling me that... What is it you are actually telling me right now? What?

Yeah, I know, I know... You're growing attached to me... You don't want to lose me... Heard it all before, Beka. You already told me, on Shintaida, after the Magog-attack...

In a minute or so you'll stop and you'll be expecting me to say... Say... Say **it**... And I won't. I. Won't. Because I don't know how. Because I don't know if I'm even right or wrong. And if I'm wrong... Well, if I'm wrong... I don't even want to think about what happens if I'm wrong...

This is quite screwed up. How can I explain?

Umm, okay...

You see, I am quite tall and massive when compared to Harper, but quite unimpressive when compared to Tyr.

On the other hand, I am of course quite smart compared to the latter, but also quite dumb when it comes to the first.

My ego's not that big to not know this quite well, since I am... quite matter-of-factly (in comparison to Trance), although I sometimes seem quite emotional (in contrast to Rommie)...

I guess what I am trying to say, Beka, is... I am pretty sure that here onboard I am quite average at the very best of times. And as I'm laying here, recovering from hypoxia and after all those strange, disturbing dreams and the latest encounter with yet another black hole, this does not quite seem like really 'best times ever', while I on the other hand am... even more average than usual.

And yet, here you are and I still don't know how the hell my – albeit quite poor - attempts to thank you properly for saving me again have led to this conversation about what and how we feel and think about each other. Not that I don't want to know what you think in this respect, but... I found it quite disturbing, your confession on Shintaida, and... well – quite unsettling really.

You are a woman and I am a man... We are... well, quite different in a lot of respects. Which means, after all that... when it comes to that sort of thing you... well, you have a quite large vocabulary that – especially on such matters – you can employ... quite eloquently and... for quite a long time, during which I just keep looking at you like a rabbit keeps staring at a snake, my mind going in frantic circles, trying to think of what to say... Since I know quite well that eventually you'll stop – and then you'll just stand there, watching me with large, wide-opened eyes full of expectation.

And then I will have to try to find words I don't... well, quite know, I suppose...

Over the last year you've been asking me quite often what I think about you. Isn't it quite clear that I am a bit squirming when trying to answer that? For you see, I find this question... frankly... quite dangerous, because on such matters I tend to be... quite honest, at least to myself and would have to admit that...

Oh, very well...

I find it... quite exciting to have long talks with you... And I think you quite... well, actually **much** nicer than the others, than... Than Tyr, for example. I suppose I would... like it... – quite a lot in fact – to sometimes just take your hand and go for a long walk with you on some nice planet or in Hydroponics or just down one corridor or another...

I think your smile... hmm, quite... quite phenomenal, really... And I think it gets... quite hot whenever I see you dance or pilot a ship...

I suppose it could get quite... quite romantic to be with you on some beach, and I would much prefer it for us to be quite alone then, for I do think that there's... well, quite a lot... doable with you... under such circumstances...

But if I go on now and tell you all of this I will be... quite caught between... oh, I don't know, quite a lot of stools... Hell, Beka, I don't quite know how to say such things... What I know for sure, on the other hand, is that as your captain I'm not allowed to even so much as think along those lines, let alone speak my mind about it.

There! You're finished. Something about how you would... miss me, should anything happen... and... There's that look on your face, you know, the one I meant, the... quite expectant one... You wait... I smile... quite silly, I presume... You wait some more and then... you smile and wave good-bye, say that I should rest and you walk away... Quite graciously, I might add.

And I just keep silent. Smile and never say that I... that I like you quite well... Yes, I like you quite well. I actually like you quite a lot... It might even be that... that I might like you... well, even much more than that... Truth be told, when compared to the others... I... Actually and... well, quite honestly I... I think you're quite nice... and that I quite like you...

Umm, okay... Well... Shit!

Ah, all... all right... Okay... I think that I... I think that I quite... well, I might... one day... sort of... love you... Damn'!


	3. Chapter 3

Missing scenes during the "The Warmth of an Invisible Light"

**II. Main Course**

**1. Attempting Honesty**

"I'm glad I found you, Dylan Hunt. Which way? It's high time. We need to send you back."

He looked into the dark eyes and felt profound gratitude that she had found him, too. Along with an almost overwhelming desire to not go back, at least not yet, a tremendous curiosity to see how things would play out here, how Rommie and Beka... Beka...

Amazed, the hooded Trance saw Dylan lift a finger.

"Yes, I know, it's time," he told her hurriedly. "But... You know what? Hold that thought and stay here. I'll be back in a minute."

"But where are you going?"

Dylan didn't answer, already far away down the way they had come.

-

She still couldn't get her head around all that had occurred as she stood alone on the huge, empty bridge; Rommie had gone off getting Chief Rhade, her men were rounding and locking up Commander Harper's people, and Dylan Hunt was gone to his own universe as Rebekkah Valentine slowly began to realize what miracle had happened: she had won the war and could finally start rebuilding the Commonwealth.

Gently stroking her console and lost in her musings, she was taken by surprise by the doors to Command opening behind her. She swirled around, astonished to see Dylan Hunt entering the bridge.

"Hey! Did you forget someth..."

She didn't manage to get through her sentence before his long, swift, space-consuming strides brought him right in front of her, where he cupped her face with both his hands and planted a long, breath-taking kiss - something more like the essence of all kisses - on her lips.

_Don't argue with a madman, that's what mum always told me_, General Valentine thought vaguely. And then with a slight mental shrug: _Good thing I don't want to argue... Why would I want to argue with __**that**_? When the kiss ended, she felt a bit sad.

"Wow!" she exclaimed as soon as he had stepped back a bit and let go of her. "You already gave me the _Andromeda_ and said that I can also have the _Maru_. I guessed that was your way to say 'Thank you!' for helping you, but... What was the kiss for?"

"For me," he admitted. "The kiss was for me. To remind me..."

"Of me?" the red-haired woman asked with an incredulously raised eye-brow.

"No," Dylan confessed quietly, "not of you. Of... her..."

Her eyes widened.

"Of her? Your Valentine?"

"Yeah. My Valentine."

"You two are...?"

"No, we're not," he hastily corrected her. "She is my XO, I'm her captain, it... it wouldn't do..."

"There is one thing I particularly like about fighting for the rebels in a civil war: you get all the fun parts without the hierarchy, the military rules... Still: it appears that, captain and XO or not, you know how she kisses – and that you want more..."

"It's been years since the last time..." Dylan interrupted, regret in his voice.

"But you love her," Rebekkah Valentine said matter-of-factly.

He didn't confirm it, didn't deny it either.

"Does she..?"

"No idea. There was a time when I thought..." Dylan shrugged helplessly. "I sometimes think she hates me."

"Why? What happened? What did you do?"

He laughed up.

"It's amazing how much you are like her! What makes you think it was me who screwed things up?"

"Was it not?"

"I don't know." And then he saw the flashing, broad, mocking grin he had been missing for so long, spreading on the familiar face beneath the unfamiliar hairdo.

"Don't worry, Dylan Hunt. If she's so much like me and hates you at the moment... Well, you can work with that!"

He smiled back and leaned down to her, his mouth brushing again lightly over her lips.

"I'll keep that in mind," he murmured. "Thanks – for everything. I have to go."


	4. Chapter 4

**2. Attempting Sorrow**

For a long time she stood there motionless, staring at the spot left vacant by Dylan's disappearance. Then she turned around and, with almost stumbling steps, followed back the path they had come together, staring ahead of her with large, unseeing eyes.

She didn't know how long she had been wandering the ruined city this way, not caring where she went, when her foot got caught, causing her to trip and fall over, landing on her hands and knees. Puzzled she swirled around, her movements hindered by the huge, hooded cape she was wearing, but the finally aware eyes didn't notice anything threatening behind her, only a prone figure on the floor. She had been stumbling over a limp, outstretched arm holding a rabbit's foot.

Crawling over she began checking the man in front of her, searching for a pulse, listening to his breathing, looking for life-signs that might have defied the pool of blood he was lying in. In the end she stopped her useless attempts and sat down next to him, her fingers reaching for his hand and taking it into her lap, where she began to stroke it lightly, cradling it to herself. She looked him over, the small body growing colder within its ridiculous carapace of leather and steel that held even his head immobile, preventing it from falling back on the floor. Slowly, her eyes filled with tears and she didn't try to prevent them from freely rolling down her cheeks.

"This is wrong," she murmured softly. "So wrong, on so many levels... I don't even know where to begin to straighten it all out. And I don't have the time. I know that I know you. No, in fact I know that I **should** know you. Harper, your name is Harper. I know it like I know that I should know you better. But I don't, not like that, not here. Whatever happened here, whatever you did, whatever was done to you, I can't change it now. But I am sorry, I am so very sorry that I can't."

Gently she let go of his hand and placed it on his chest.

"There, that's better now," she whispered brushing through his hair with her fingers. Rising from the floor she wiped her eyes in a futile attempt to stop the tears.

"I need to go. There's nothing left for me to do here. I was here to help Dylan. But now that he's gone back to where he came from, maybe there's a chance for you, for all of us there, in that other universe he came from. We are not them, but we are like them – a bit. I wish you luck there, Harper, not just more luck than here, but all the luck you once deserved... I hope that Trance can sort it out for them all, but if not – at least for you. And her. I hope..." she sighed briefly. "I hope."

She turned around to leave, but hesitated once more, quickly kneeled down again and blew a kiss on his rigid cheek.

"Good bye. We'll be seeing each other around the universes..."


	5. Chapter 5

Set after Through a Glass Darkly.

**3. Attempting conciliation**

Harper sighed. This whole business of running away and hiding and 'poofing' in and out of places had to stop. The sooner the better. Keeping track on Trance had never been easy, but since they had all ended up on Seefra it had turned into something like herding cats. She used to always be someplace else than where he was looking for her. And showed always up when and where he least expected it to happen. Annoyed the young man sighed again. At least Dylan didn't seem to have gotten the hang of it, too. Small mercies...

They had had a quarrel, right after her return. He had not been in a mood to talk to her – or anyone else, for that matter, the sadness about Hohne's death drenching, impregnating him almost to the core of his very being. How many people were given a second chance to enjoy a friendship, to renew a bond, to keep someone special closer to oneself? Not many, Harper knew it – just as he knew that he had screwed up again, once more unable to keep the Perseid safe. That Beka and Dylan tried to brush it off as if it were some kind of unchangeable fate one had to come to terms with, enraged him – the more so since both of them could have saved Hohne too, had they just...

Whenever his thoughts reached this stage, he stopped, knowing that if he pushed it further he'd end up losing again and even more people, knowing he was unfair, knowing that to have traded their lives for Hohne's would not have left him feeling any better. (In fact he suspected that had Beka or Dylan died instead of the Perseid, he would have felt even more desperate, but he was not inclined to admit to that so easily, not even to himself.) Unfortunately Trance had come to see him right before he had reached that stage. As she tried to comfort him, he had turned his back on her, snapped at her, hearing only a sharp, short intake of breath and then... And then nothing. She had disappeared.

And now Harper was into the third hour of searching for her, patience wearing thinner by the minute; he'd tried to check the planets, contacted whomever stood a chance of knowing something on her whereabouts, was now back onboard the _Andromeda Ascendant_ and still had not managed to get any closer to really finding Trance.

"_Andromeda_?"

The monitor closest to him flickered and came to life.

"Yes?" Their ship's familiar face appeared, its tone anything but familiar in its vagueness. Harper could not prevent another sigh from escaping his lips.

"Yeah... Hi, Rommie! Do you happen to know where Trance is?" he then ventured cautiously. He didn't want to make _Andromeda _anymore insecure about her own abilities than she was already.

A bright, even though somewhat empty smile flashed up on her features.

"She is in Hydroponics," the ship informed him briskly, then faded out again.

_Great! Good thing I've been looking for her all over the system... Damn' that stupid, volatile chick!_ Harper cursed, but then called himself to order, starting an imagined monologue with himself. _Calm down, Harper!_ he admonished. _It's quite in character for a chick to be volatile. Not that she is one – she's Trance. And she is just as lost as we all are... Well, maybe not all... I mean, Beka seems to get along just fine here. And Dylan is... Shit! Harper, __**stop it**__! Stop it and go to Trance!_

And he took off towards _Andromeda_'s garden decks in a rush.

-

He stood on the threshold, hardly believing his eyes. By the Divine, when did she found the time – and the resources – to come up with all that? After the battle at Arkology, the _Andromeda Ascendant_ had been left nothing more than a wreck, no living being still onboard and in one piece, including all of Trance's plants in Hydroponics. And when they had come back onboard together, one by one and all of them but Dylan more or less reluctantly, it was like some kind of secret agreement: none of them had ventured anywhere near the former green heart of the _Andromeda_, each of them – even Dylan – instinctively feeling that to see the devastation there would, emotionally speaking, have been the last straw to break the camel's back. It had therefore been with utmost hesitation that Harper had come looking for Trance there, his pace growing slower the more he came closer to the 'forbidden' deck.

And now **this**! It was a marvel of colour, rich green shades and blossoms, the huge tree in the middle of the vast place as strong and proud and vibrant with life as he remembered...

Harper swallowed dryly, trying in vain to come up with enough saliva to wet his mouth, so he might be able to utter a sound...

"Trance?" he finally croaked lowly. At first there was no reply.

"Trance?" he insisted once more, this time more forcefully. "I know you're here! Come on! Trance, we need to talk. I'm sorry I've been such a jerk... Trance? Please?"

And then some bushes set on the far left side of the hall parted, revealing her small golden frame coming nearer, her cheeks bathed in tears.

"Trance!"

Some quick few steps took him directly to her. Already on his way to her he opened his arms widely – and she almost flew right into his embrace. Sobbing she buried her face in his neck, tightly squeezing her eyes shut.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" the childlike little figure burst out between hick-ups. "I tried to get there myself instead of Hohne, but couldn't... The solar eruptions, the interference and radiation level... I tried... I really tried, Harper! But I... I wish it had been me, I wish..."

"Shhh," he silenced her severely, placing a finger over her quivering lips and stroking her hair without caring about his fingers getting entangled in the rich curls, "don't talk nonsense. We can't afford to lose you. **I** can't afford to lose you. Trance, look at me! Trance!"

Thus admonished the brown, tearful eyes opened, looking at him somewhat hopeless, scared and doubting.

"You hate me..." she insisted.

"No, I don't hate you. I love you. I have always loved you, even when you had horns. I didn't know you at times, didn't ever really understand you, but I've always loved you. We all have..."

"But I screwed up. Time and again I screw up..."

"Yes, you do," Harper confirmed. "But you see, that's where the love-part comes in. The rest: the precognition and tessaracting and going supernova and all this stuff is scary... But when you screw up, you're great!" he told her with a grin.

She looked at him with a serious expression in her eyes.

"I am?" Trance then asked, still doubtful.

"Yes, you are!" he insisted. "Great minds screw up, you see, because at times they somehow overtake themselves. And when they do... they're... well, I guess they're bonding with other great minds, who come to understand them and..."

"Are you telling me that I am somewhat like you?"

Laughter was dancing in his eyes.

"I guess I am..."

"Harper!" she cried out indignantly, slapping his arm slightly.

"What? You don't like that?"

For a moment she just stood there, looking at him. And then she smiled, radiantly.

"I do, Seamus, I do. I like that very much."


	6. Chapter 6

Set after Heart of the Journey II.

**III. For Dessert**

_**1. Attempting Reverse**_

Closely followed by Beka, Seamus Zelasny Harper entered the festively decorated Hydroponics, his eyes darting about and already looking for Trance. He couldn't find her, although there weren't many people around so she could have gotten lost in a crowd. Surprised by her absence, he swiftly approached Dylan, the one most likely to know exactly where she was.

The captain of the _Andromeda Ascendant_ was comfortably seated with a plate and a glass under one of Trance's Seefran goldpines, but had been obviously ignoring both his food and drink, his eyes staring intently over to the huge refreshment stall placed right of the main entrance, where his first officer was already busy shoving masses of fancy foods on a far too small a plate.

"Dylan, hey!"

"Hey, Harper! Beka was looking for you..." the tall man informed him unnecessarily.

"Yes, well – she found me... Have you seen Trance?"

"Hm?"

"Trance..." Harper repeated.

"Nope," Dylan answered distractedly, continuing to look over at Beka as if he was seeing her for the first time in his life. Harper couldn't suppress a grin.

"Rhade's wife..." he challenged, "isn't she the most gorgeous babe?"

"U-hu," the older man grunted somewhat vaguely.

"Even more so than Rev..."

"Yup..." Dylan answered still not more focused on his conversation partner, but then seemed to come out of his reverie. "**What**? Harper, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Ah," the engineer smiled satisfied, "at last! Captain Dylan Hunt finally rejoining our ranks. Nice to meet you here, boss. Now, before I let you follow your primordial instincts and go over to Beka: have you seen Trance?"

"No, not during the past couple of hours," the captain told him, looking slightly flushed and with an awkward smile.

"Well..." Harper began, but then stopped as the doors to Hydroponics opened... Revealing Trance... Old Trance...

For a brief moment she just stood there, a small uncertain smile adorning her lips, her eyes even bigger and darker in the purple face, a long, slim, pointed tail nervously shifting behind her. Only the long, bronze curls and her rich attire reminded of the other Trance, the one they had lived with lately... And her voice, that had remained sweet and soft and a bit insecure, as if she still had not regained all her memories and faculties, although they all knew she had:

"What?" that voice now asked into the stupefied silence.

"T... Trance?" Rhade stammered, who stood closest to her. And then all approached her at once, talking and laughing and trying to touch her, questions and exclamations pouring down on her in an indistinguishable noise. All but Harper, who had remained where he was, staring at her like frozen on the spot.

The young girl smiled and laughed and tried to answer questions, but all the while her eyes kept returning every other second to his face, a scared look in them.

"You see," the young man heard her trying to explain it, "when I had to switch places with my older self, I... I lost a huge part of me, of myself and my natural time and... It's complicated..." she sighed apologetically. "Anyway, with the Abyss and the Worldship now safely gone my folks – the Lambent Kith nebula," she briefly looked to Dylan, who nodded knowingly, "well, they thought that I deserved a... a second chance at living my life... like it was... meant to... I mean..." her voice trailed off and ended in a small sigh. For a moment she fell silent, the others waiting for her to continue. But she just shook her head, looking past them all.

"Harper?" In a small voice the young man finally heard her asking for him. As if she had issued an order, all of her friends stepped aside, leaving a path open among them, that was leading from her directly to him. He hadn't budged, seemed even almost not to breath. "Harper?" she tried anew, this time sounding close to tears.

The Terran seemed to make an effort concentrating, literally had to shake himself out of the stupor still visible on his features, but then he set himself in motion, slowly, with caution, as if fearing that she would vanish anew, should he come too near too fast. She also moved to meet him halfway, and then they were in front of each other, and he could see the fear of rejection clearly showing in her eyes. His hand came up, almost involuntarily, gently rubbing at her cheek, as if he checked whether or not the skin was really purple, if what his eyes saw was truly, really there. And then he simply took her hand, turned around and – dragging her along with him in a hurry – left them all more or less open-mouthed.

"Excuse us," he threw over his shoulder. "Trance and I have to talk!"

-

"Is this a joke?"

The gentleness was gone. He sounded furious.

"Nnoo..." she answered almost cringing.

"What then?"

"Just what my... my folks... decided," she replied.

"For how long?" he inquired.

"For how long what?"

"This... this..." he waved his arms around her, "shape... colour... whatever..."

"For good..." she said. "I hope..." sounding not too certain.

"You hope? Well, that's perfect! Damn', Trance, do you have any idea what you're doing to me here?"

"Excuse me?"

"Do you know what it means to me, all this switching and twisting and being here and there, the coming and going and moving through time and space..."

"But you've been yourself building tesseractors..."

"That's something completely different!" Harper exclaimed outraged.

"No, it isn't," she shouted back at him. "It's what and who you are: someone with completely new and strange and crazy, maddening ideas, that sometimes work and sometimes threaten to destroy us all. They're part of you, you can't suppress them, your thirst for knowledge, your wish to see how far you can go any more than I can control the decisions my folks are making or the way I have to be and what I have to do at times..."

"But... but..."

"But what? Do you think I wanted to change then or now? Do you think I'm thrilled about any of this?"

He looked at her, for once silenced and thoughtful.

"How old are you, Trance?" he then asked her quietly.

"Old enough," she answered.

"For what?"

"To know that I don't want to change and change and lose my friends' trust over this," Trance replied. "But I can't help it. I couldn't help it then – nor has it this time been my decision, either."

Harper looked at her, his blue eyes slowly warming.

"Which means what ultimately?" he then wanted to know. "That every time I turn around in the future, I risk coming across yet another Trance?"

She shrugged helplessly.

"You might," Trance admitted. "But what's so strange about it? Why am I any different? You all change, you move on, regress, progress and then take off into yet another direction in your lives. It's just that my shifts are not so easy to conceal."

"Okay, all right," Harper gave in, sounding a bit defeated, "and what do you want from me now?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that in there they all were thrilled to see you back..."

"They all, but not you..."

"No," he readily admitted, "but their acceptance was just not enough for you. You wanted mine..."

"Naturally!" she exclaimed indignantly.

"**Naturally**?" Harper shouted back. "Believe me, my lovely, whatever this whole mess might be, natural it isn't!"

Trance sighed, her shoulders slumping forward.

"So it was nothing but talk..."

He frowned, uncomprehending.

"What? What was nothing but talk?"

"That..." she hesitated. "That you always loved me..." she then finished stubbornly.

"No," he disagreed strongly. "No, it wasn't, but..."

"But what?"

Indeed: but what? Harper looked at her, his frowning deepening even more. And yet, while contemplating the enchanting sight in front of him, a smile began to creep slowly into his eyes, spreading from there over his face until it reached his lips, turning into a huge, happy grin.

"What?" Trance smirked at him.

"You remember..."

"Of course I remember..."

The grin deepened further.

"So you care..."

She frowned. Then flashed a murderous look at him.

"Of course I care, you idiot. I always cared. I. Always. Cared," she stressed. "I cared each time you've been hurt or in danger, I cared when you were losing something dear to your heart, I cared when you were lost and far away from me, when you made foolish jokes and couldn't keep your mouth shut. And I even cared each time when you were coming on to yet another one of your stupid, supposedly cool babes..."

"Trance?" he ventured with caution. "Trance, you sound almost jealous..."

"No, not almost, Harper. And I'm not just sounding like that..."

"But..."

"But what, Harper? How am I supposed to feel, amid all your Rommies and Doyles and Bekas and..."

"Okay, okay – I get the picture, but Trance, they never wanted to have anything to do with me..."

"But**I** did!" the young girl said. "I did, and yet you only looked at me first with indulgence, then with suspicion, then with awe, then..."

"Trance, had I known..."

"Well, you know now."

Harper scrutinised her.

"Trance, are you sulking?"

He received no answer.

"Trance?" he tried anew. "Trance, look at me! Trance!"

Reluctantly she lifted her gaze.

"Why?"

He sighed deeply.

"Because I want to ask you for your forgiveness, Trance. I'm sorry that I didn't take you seriously. I'm sorry that I seemed not to notice or that I didn't trust you. And no, it wasn't just talk. I love you, I have always loved you – and if you really think that you want me, I mean ME!..."

He didn't get any further. With an enchanted shriek, she threw herself at him, knocking him off his feet. Coming to rest on him, the lovely creature gazed enraptured into his face.

"Seamus Zelasny Harper," she whispered, smiling broadly, "I really, really want you and no-one else..."

"Sheesh!"


	7. Chapter 7

_**2. Attempting Peace**_

She detested celebrations, official receptions and such, but parties, the ones that came in with friends and music, dancing and chatting and goofing around and having fun... Parties she adored.

She could not remember to ever have had a better one. There had only been the seven of them, Rev Bem and Rhade's wife. They had been in Hydroponics, there had been lampoons in the trees and as much food and drinks as they could wish for, they laughed and danced and got lost in reminiscences and dreamed together of their futures – for once no longer gloomy, scary and dark, but bright and wide, wide open in front of them all.

She was drunk on happiness, on their victory, on the feelings of warmth, friendship and success that seemed to float around them, and so she had stuck to water during the entire evening. After their time on Seefra clean, pure water was anyway the most wonderful taste she could imagine. It had gotten late – and she had together with Rev Bem been the last one to leave, after receiving _Andromeda_'s reassurance that no, she needed no help and that the bots could handle the cleaning up by themselves.

But she couldn't sleep, she didn't want this night to end, didn't want to just call it a day and wake up the next morning to... another world, one without the Abyss, without the Magog, one with routines, schedules, work, vacations, friends, political intrigues, duties, rights, responsibilities, certainties and freedom. As glad as she was to finally have made it to such a world, she didn't know anything about it, had never experienced such a world from within. She had no doubts she'd fit in, she had no doubts it would be good, but still: she had no idea how she would find her way – and did not want to think about it for now. For now all she wanted was to simply bask in the warm, cozy feeling of success for just a little while longer.

Leaning on the rail in front of the huge window of the Observation Deck, Beka Valentine gazed out to the stars.

She had left the doors open and so she heard him coming for quite a while before he reached the Obs Deck. She didn't turn around, didn't really have to, having for years known the rhythm of the swift, determined stride by heart. It didn't even surprise her that he was coming to her; she had also known for years that he had ever since they came aboard adopted the habit of inquiring on their all whereabouts before going to sleep himself. When one of them was not where he supposed them to be found at that hour, doing exactly what he expected them to do, more often than not he postponed his rest and came to check.

That – victory or not – Dylan Hunt was not breaking the habit tonight didn't really come as a surprise to her. But then surprise settled in on her nonetheless.

She had expected him to hesitate before finding an opening he thought adequate. He always hesitated around her at first, had done so for the last two years at least. It had been rather long since the last time when he had felt truly comfortable around her. They had re-forged their friendship, knotted again the ties that bound them together, but the easy-going, natural companionship, that had been theirs before Tyr had left the ship, was still missing somehow and it wasn't really because of Beka's lack of trying. As far as she could tell, it had just been too long that she had seemed to Dylan unpredictable, unreadable, incomprehensible in a lot of her reactions. And so the first moments that they spent together were always a bit awkward, strained, with Dylan cautiously checking her mood as if he were moving forward through a mine field, while Beka was mostly trying to just relax, lean back and give him the space and time he needed to reassure himself that nothing would explode into his face.

And so she had expected him to stall his stride at the doors, to approach her in a diplomatic manner, to slowly come nearer, clear his throat and start a casual conversation or simply join her in silence. But he didn't do any of his usual delaying tactics, and that startled her. Yet he was too quick, and she never got the chance to turn around and face him. Before she could force her mind to come out of its relaxed, pleasantly lazy mode of complete well-being and react to the fact that he didn't stop or wait or hesitate, he had already reached her.

To her immense amazement, she felt his hands reaching out for her shoulders and gently pulling her away from the rail, up and towards him, until her back was leaning against him. His right arm reached across her chest, his hand coming to rest on her left shoulder, while his left arm encircled her waist, his head resting lightly against her hair. It was in no way aggressive or restricting, but it was unmistakingly possessive, a strangely tight and at the same time loose, not constraining embrace, the laxness of his grip indicating clearly that he'd step back and let her out of it the second she would try to break free.

She didn't. For a moment she stiffened up a bit, taken by surprise, but she relaxed almost immediately into his arms and leant heavily back against him. Amazing as it was, it just felt good and warm and like exactly the right thing to do.

They stood there in silence, both watching the stars. Occasionally it occurred to Beka that it was a bit awkward to merely stand there, locked in Dylan's embrace, but she didn't care, she was just too comfortable the way she was. At long last however, she infinitesimally craned her head to the side and up, trying to peer into his face. Tiny as it had been, Dylan perceived the movement. Leaning a bit to the right, but not letting go of her, he inclined his head towards his shoulder so he could look at her. Their eyes met and he smiled.

"Couldn't sleep?" His voice sounded a bit rough, a little deeper than usual, the way it always did when he was tired, pent-up or simply just uncertain.

Smiling back at him, Beka shook her head.

"I could, if I would only go to bed. I'm so tired, I think I'd fall asleep in a matter of seconds."

"So then why don't you?"

"Can't," she joked, "you're keeping me up." But as she felt the hug growing slack, her hands reached up to his right arm to keep it in place. "No, don't let go!" she hastily urged him.

The embrace tightened up and she nestled back in, her gaze returning to the stars outside. For a brief moment he kept staring at her, then placed a feather-light kiss on the top of her head.

"I never will," he murmured before going back himself to observing the universe.

_How strange_, thought Beka, _how strange to be here with him like that, in this room of all places!_

The Obs Deck was the one spot onboard the _Andromeda Ascendant_ that had probably seen the most fights between the two of them. Oh, there had been so many they had fought that Beka seriously doubted that there was as much as one single place left on the _Eureka Maru_ or on the _Andromeda_ that had not heard angry words, hurtful remarks and biting accusations. But whenever things went seriously south, matters got really bad between them, they seemed to always end up on Obs Deck, pacing up and down, ranting, shouting at each other.

There was probably not one particle in the entire hall that couldn't tell a story of some old storm thundering on between them until sometimes there seemed to be not one bit of their mutual respect and understanding for each other left to build up on. A wrong impression. There always was something left between them, something that reached deeper, that proved stronger than the hurt, the mistrust and the fury.

By now she knew all his tricks and schemes, just as he knew all her ploys and charms. Whenever they had tried to break free from each other, they had failed miserably, keeping each other bound from one trap to another, even though it occasionally seemed that they were losing the other. Yes, there had been others crossing their ways, every now and then deterring them from the path that was inevitably leading them to each other. But all in all it had turned out in the end that they both had a talent for knowing how to grow old without growing bitter, how to make their way individually, but not separately.

Time and fate had been following them closely, tormenting, testing, mocking and hurting them. And yet they had proven that they could come through, that they would always come through, overcoming no matter what the universe was set on throwing at them. They had grown accustomed to the struggles – and to struggling together. With every day that they spent with each other, Beka felt less and less like running, Dylan felt less and less like being torn apart, they were less and less protecting their frailties from each other. They left less to chance, were more suspicious of the way things were and paying more attention to ensure that even in their darkest hours the war they fought with each other maintained some tenderness .

So many times that he had distanced himself from her, so many times that she had threatened to leave for good. And now here they were, after the Abyss, after Seefra, after... Reaching within herself, Beka was surprised to find out that she knew, deep down and with an absolute certainty, that she finally had lost her hunger for independence. Just as she knew that Dylan had lost his appetite for conquests.

Oh yes, there had been storms, there would be more ahead. A love stubbornly growing for five years was strong, and mad, and powerful. And yet there was one big challenge left: to prove that they dared and could live in and at peace – around them and with each other. The biggest one of all.

"Dylan?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't run scared now, but..."

"But?"

Silence.

"Beka?"

"What?"

"I'm not running. Scared or otherwise."

"No, you're not."

"So who is? Are you?"

"No. No, I'm through with running. I love you, Dylan."

A deep breath and a barely suppressed sigh behind her. The tightening of arms around her. And then lips searching, probing, tasting the skin below her ear. And a soft, hot blowing whisper.

"Beka! I love you, I think that I have loved you for so long a time I don't even know exactly when it started. And I will go on loving you till the end of times:"

"That is a huge promise."

"No, it's not. It's a fact."

"I love you. That's a fact, too."

She turned around, not leaving the circle of his arms. Her head turned up to his face, her lips found his mouth that was softer, warmer and even better tasting than she remembered. Which was really surprising, since she did remember it very soft and warm and tasting deliciously. _It's true, after all, that appetite grows with eating_, she thought randomly.

"We've been fools..." she murmured against his lips. "But I for one am through with that."

"Is that a promise?" he asked, a longing smile in his voice.

"That's a promise," Beka confirmed strongly.

"Good," he breathed in her hair. "Because I've decided that I too am through with running, being stupid and waiting."

She placed her hands flat against his chest, pushing him away and looking at his face with an almost interogatory expression.

"This all sounds... too easy somewhat..." she finally told him. "Not as if you're acting on impulse..."

"That's because I'm not," Dylan informed her quietly. "I've planned all this for... for so long. It's just that over the years I started to lose faith that we'll ever make it..."

"Over the years?" Her eyes widened questioning. "How long has this been building up?"

"Building up? I don't know," he confessed. "I just know that while I was waiting for you to wake up after that first flash abuse, I realised that should you lose your fight against it, I'd give up too on... on..."

"On what?"

Dylan shrugged helplessly.

"No idea, really. On everything, I guess..."

Beka felt moisture welling up in her eyes.

"My God, why didn't you say so in the first place? That was ages ago! Dylan, how could you live this way for all those years?"

"I couldn't. I didn't. But I functioned, didn't I? I mean, it worked out in the end, right? But for the fact that I had time and again to ask them all to stick to me just because I had to treat you all alike and couldn't bring myself to orderYOU into battle, order YOU to take the risks, it worked out, didn't it?" His hands clasped her shoulders almost painfully, while he tried to focus on different spots of her face, his gaze wandering off from the high cheekbones to the strong, straight, a bit snobbish nose and further down to that amazingly full lips, only to end up drowning yet again in the smokiness of those blue-grey eyes he couldn't do without.

She swallowed and then reached up to him, taking his face into her hands, her heart almost missing a beat as she watched him close his eyes and lean into her touch, as if he had been craving for something like this for too long and was unable to restrain himself anymore. But then his eyes opened. No, Beka noticed, not un-able... Un-willing. She smiled, but then decided to take it one step further, challenge him some more.

"What about... you know, the Commonwealth, the High Guard?"

He shook his head doubtfully.

"I... I don't know, Beka. I think that we've both proven beyond the call of duty that we can serve together, no matter how things stand between us. But if they insist on their regulations..." He shrugged and drew her nearer. Placing her hands against his chest Beka grinned at him broadly.

"Oh well, what the heck!" she exclaimed, sounding casually, although her eyes were searching his a bit uncertain. "I've always been a rebel!"

"I know," he told her quietly. "But I'm not. Not deep down, not really. If they don't understand, I will not fight them, just resign my commission and walk away. Could you... could you live with that?"

"With that... and you?" Beka asked him directly, but staring squarely straight ahead at her hands.

"Of course with me. I... I thought that we somehow already established even before the battle that from now on you and me will always ride together..." Dylan said pointedly, himself now taking her face into his hands and gently turning it up, so he could look into her eyes. "Beka, I mean every single word I told you. But outside the High Guard... I'm not even sure I know how to earn a living," he told her earnestly.

She could not suppress a chuckle.

"I'm sure Uncle Sid could find you an occupation. And if not, I always wanted to keep myself my very own, private hero..."

"That's not funny," he protested.

"Yes, it is," she contradicted him. "You're not seriously implying that once out of the military you'd be a useless relic!"

"But Sid... I'm sure you're joking."

"Yes, I am."

Pulling his head back down to her she restarted the kissing. Dylan complied, but only a moment later he withdrew again.

"One more thing..."

"What now?" Beka inquired a bit annoyed.

"Over the past years I..." he hesitated, his cheekbones coloring lightly. "I might have... I mean, I somehow was... I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry, but it can't be undone that... that you're not exactly..." he peered into her face, hoping she might help him on this one, but she didn't; and so he swallowed and concluded harshly, looking down past her: "...that you're not exactly the first woman in my life."

For an instant Beka stood there in silence, but then she cupped his chin firmly with her hand and made him look at her.

"I couldn't help noticing," she told him gently, "but you know, much rather than the first I'd prefer to be the last woman in your life."

He smiled relieved and grateful and his head came closer. She closed her eyes again in anticipation, but instead of a kiss she felt another small sigh blowing over her lips. She reopened her eyes and found him very close, sternly staring at her.

"What?" Beka inquired.

"While we're at it... This legion of pretty, mostly Nietzschean bad boys..."

"Hardly a legion," she objected quickly.

"Felt like a legion," Dylan insisted stubbornly.

"Not even a cohort," Beka slightly pouted.

"A legion, a cohort...!" he exclaimed somewhat exasperated. "In any case too many..."

Leaning her head against him, Beka whispered something.

"I didn't quite catch that..." Dylan informed her in a low voice.

"I said," she uttered louder into his chest, "that I was merely biding my time until I could get hold of the baddest pretty boy of them all."

"Ah, okay, that's settled then," he laughed at her with a smirk. She lifted her head.

"Are we done now?"

"We're done here," he agreed, lifting her into his arms and turning speedily towards the doors. Surprised, she drew her head back and looked at him ironically.

"Are you in a rush? Under some kind of pressure?"

"You bet," Dylan laughed back at her. "So," he continued between a shower of small kisses that he was planting all over her face while walking swiftly through the deserted corridors and towards their own quarters, "your place, mine or the _Maru_? And: about those kids..."

"What kids?"

"The ones you took great care to inform me that you didn't want..."

Encircling his neck with her arms and leaning into him, she sighed:

"By the Divine! You **really** are in a rush..."


End file.
